


Partial Inktober 2019

by KBBearen (KDRBear)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Character Death, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Gandalf is a Troll, Gen, Gold Sick Thorin, Inktober 2019, M/M, Snow, accidental magic, hobbits vs boots, tags by chapter, thorin and the one ring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-11-26 13:03:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDRBear/pseuds/KBBearen
Summary: A friend got me to start doing this writer's inktober with her.  I'm only doing days I don't work (12 hour shifts are exhausting).  Tags vary by chapter, I usually do fluff, but damn did some of these get the better of me!1. Ring2. Mindless - Dark!3. Enchanted4. Snow5. Overgrown6. Tasty





	1. 1. Ring

**Author's Note:**

> Tags for 1: fluff, bagginshield, pining idiots, marriage proposal, cultural differences, AU: Bilbo stays in Erebor

Bilbo took a deep breath. Thorin would be by any moment now for their afternoon tea, and they had done this a hundred times, no reason to worry so, except the gold ring was near burning a hole in his pocket and everything would change, so yes, there was plenty good reason to worry! He fingered the thing, considering tucking it in his chest of drawers for another time, but there came the usual knock.

Now or never, Bilbo thought as he answered the door. “Thorin, come in, come in! I just put the water on, but you can have biscuits in the meantime. Did Balin tell you of the boys’ latest escapade?”

“Hm,” Thorin chuckled as he removed his boots. “I heard they were quite proud of themselves, at least until Oin got hold of them.”

“At least it was Oin and not Dori,” Bilbo laughed, setting down the tea tray in the parlor.

Thorin took his usual chair as Bilbo puttered about, retrieving more even more biscuits to set in front of the dwarf and adjusting his tea just so.

“And what has you so full of energy?” Thorin asked, an amused twinkle in his eye as he took Bilbo’s hand from adjusting the silverware yet again and gave him a bristly kiss to his palm.

Bilbo sat back, pulled the edges of his waist jacket. “No reason for delaying this, I suppose. Thorin, I know we have been taking our...relationship slow, but I have to say… Well, I thought it was about time…” Bilbo flushed from the tips of his ears to his furry toes. This shouldn’t be so hard, but his words failed him. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold ring. “Here,” he said, thrusting it at Thorin.

Thorin held the little ring carefully. It was clearly an amateur attempt, not a uniform thickness all the way around and with a slightly flattened side, but to be given a first craft was a show of great trust, of considering the recipient as good as kin. He inspected it a little longer, giving it the care a first craft deserved, before slipping it onto a finger. “Thank you, Bilbo. I am honored.”

He had an armful of hobbit before he knew it.

“You accept?” Bilbo asked, his eyes somewhat glossy.

“Yes, of course, Bilbo.”

“Oh, thank Yvanna!” Bilbo nearly cried, but then started laughing. “I was half afraid you’d reject me just based on that ring!”

Wait…

“I suppose we will have a long engagement, at least until after Durin’s Day? Traditionally, hobbits prefer spring weddings, but of course we are among your people, and especially with your position…”

Before his hobbit could get any more worked up, Thorin had to know. “Bilbo, are you asking for my hand in marriage?”

“Yes? You accepted the ring?” Bilbo pulled back to look Thorin in the eyes, fear clear in his own.

“Yes, and it is a good First Craft. But I thought you wanted to take our relationship slowly.”

“But we have! It’s been over a year! I was beginning to think you had lost interest! And I’ll have you know, that’s the tenth ring I’ve attempted!” Bilbo was working himself up into a strop by this point, wringing his hands.

“Yes! I accept,” Thorin cut in, engulfing Bilbo’s hands in his own, stilling the nervous movement. He leaned his forehead against Bilbo’s, now a calming gesture for him, and whispered, “I will gladly join hands with you in marriage.”

“Oh, well that is a relief,” Bilbo sighed as the tension spilled out of his form, leaving him exhausted as he leaned back into his chair.

Crisis averted, Thorin finally bit into a biscuit and poured the tea. “Truly, I only wished to respect your boundaries. But how long is a typical hobbit courtship?”

Bilbo also sat back and started on his own plate. “Truly? Most are lucky to last 6 months. Many more marry even earlier, plausible deniability when the baby’s born, you see.”

Thorin's jaw dropped and his teacup may have followed had Bilbo been a little slower.

“What? We’ve taken our time. It’s not like we’ll have to race to the altar before a little one shows,” Bilbo chuckled.

“Ten years,” Thorin choked out.

“What?”

“Ten years is an average engagement for our people.”

“Oh. Oh dear. You don't suppose they'll think..?”


	2. 2. Mindless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 tags: dark Thorin, goldsick Thorin, Thorin and the One Ring, mentioned character death

The edges of his vision blur, colors fade. There is only one focus. Gold. But even this fades in light of what the small creature holds. Bilbo? something deep in his subconscious tried to supply, but he brushed it away. That little ring, shining brighter than all the gold in his hoard. He needed it. It was precious.

The creature ran, he pursued. Sliding down the slopes of coins, he easily gained on it. He nearly has the precious in his grip. It is his, the faintest tint of red in the corner of his eye, but it doesn’t matter. His. His Only. His Precious. 

He slips the simple golden ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly. It whispers to him. Of power and glory. If only he reunites with its master. His master, now. Yes, he will go to his master, for true power and glory.

King Thorin II Oakenshield walks from his mountain.


	3. 7. Enchanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 Tags: Bagginshield, Gandalf is a troll, Bilbo stayed in Erebor, established relationship, accidental magic

Day 7: Enchanted  
“Bilbo Baggins! You’ve become just as stubborn as your dwarves! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were becoming one! Phha! To think you used to be the reasonable one,” Gandalf groused, taking a long pull from his pipe.

Bilbo blew a smoke ring. “I still am the reasonable one, which is why you bothered bringing this to me first. But my answer is still a firm ‘no,’ and I can tell you Thorin’s will be as well. Honestly, you can’t just barge in and demand a person to turn their whole life upside down. We’re happy here.”

“And you were happy alone in your hobbit hole.”

“Just so.” Bilbo knocked the remainder of his pipe into the ashtray and stood. “I fear I must bid you goodnight, long day ahead, you see.”

“Very well, but this discussion is not over,” Gandalf promised as he stood, though the end of his borrowed staff caught on a flag stone of Bilbo’s private balcony. As Radagast’s old staff hit the ground, a bright blue light blinded Bilbo.

“Gandalf?! What did you do?! I can’t see!”

“There, there, dear boy. It was merely a flash, your vision should adjust soon.” Gandalf took Bilbo by the shoulder and led him into his own rooms to his favorite armchair. 

He rubbed his eyes, blinking away the starbursts. Gandalf was almost in focus now. “You’re sure that’s all there was? Just a light? I feel a little queer.”

“Ah, just from the excitement. You’ll be right as rain by morning,” Gandalf promised. “Now, I suppose I must be off, long day tomorrow.”

Bilbo supposed it was just the excitement as his vision had returned in full shortly after Gandalf had left. He went about his evening, meeting his husband for dinner and settling in for the night.

“Hm, Thorin? I had a rather odd conversation with Gandalf today. Suppose he’ll petition you tomorrow at open court.”

Thorin frowned and looked up from his stack of documents. That wizard always seemed to bring trouble. “And what did you discuss?”

“Oh, catching up mainly, but he did have this idea, and he was pretty insistent, that you should consider retiring, leave leadership to the next generation and all.”

Thorin snorted. “That disappointed in my kingship already?” He shook his head. “But in truth, there’s too much work to be done and Fili is not yet ready. Maybe in a few decades, but not now.”

Bilbo leaned into Thorin’s side, effectively blocking him from signing any more treaties. “Certainly a dwarf in his prime wouldn’t consider retiring so soon. Not when he is still so vital…”

"Certainly not with such a sprightly consort at his side..."

Despite Gandalf assurances, Bilbo felt even more peculiar the next morning. But cursing the wizard could wait at least until after his morning ablutions. He put one foot out of bed…and fell on his face. The stone floor was freezing! Worse than the dead of winter! And he couldn’t get his balance on his… He looked down. On his tiny feet! His tiny, hairless, feet! He screamed.

Thorin shot up from bed, a dagger drawn from only he knew where. He rounded the bed to find his consort wrapped up in the sheets on the floor. Except… His mouth fell open.

“My feet! My beautiful feet!” Bilbo cried, grasping his now hairless toes.

“Bilbo? Your face…”

“What’s wrong with my face?!” he cried, reaching up and feeling stubble on his normally smooth cheeks. He reached further and found his delicate pointed ears were now large and rounded. “I’m going to kill that wizard!”


	4. Day 11. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow in the mountains is much different than the gentle snows of the Shire. Of course, Thorin wants to drag Bilbo outside during this terrible weather to show him something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 specific tags: gift giving, hobbits hate footwear, dwalin

11\. Snow:  
Hobbit feet were hardy things, able to withstand many terrains. Their soles were even thick enough to stave off the cold bite of the average Shire snow. True, it hardly ever snowed more than ankle height and even that was considered a snowy season, but snow was snow, wasn’t it?

Bilbo had certainly learned different in his time in and about the Lonely Mountain. His last jaunt out to Dale with the boys had earned a tongue lashing from Oin and the beginnings of what the old healer had called “frost bite”. Surely he was exaggerating, toes didn’t just fall off like that!

Still, the entire company had thrown a fit and soon he had his own pair sturdy fur lined dwarven boots. And he hates them. Clumsy as a newborn lamb, he had tried clomping around his rooms, hoping he would get used to them before too long, but then Dwalin had come barging in, fearing there was some sort of struggle from all that noise. Bilbo may have bribed Dwalin with the last of his spice biscuits to never mention it to anyone else in the company.

But this day, he would have to face his foe. Thorin had wanted to show him something outside and said it couldn’t wait, and then had specifically reminded him to bring his boots what with the recent snowfall they had received. 

Bilbo swallowed hard, tied the laces together over his pack, and headed down to the gates of Erebor.

The travel party was small, only Thorin, Dwalin, and Bifur waited at the gates with rams already kitted out. At least if he was to embarrass himself, it was only in front of his friends.

“Bilbo,” Thorin greeted warmly, though his eyebrows rose upon seeing the boots high on his pack instead of on his feet. “Those can’t keep you warm from there, you do know?”

“Ah, yes, of course. I only hadn’t wanted to sweat my through the mountain, you see,” Bilbo laughed nervously.

“Very sensible, but go ahead and put them on so we can start.” Thorin accepted the reins of the fourth ram from Bifur, bringing the beast about for Bilbo.

With Thorin looking at him like that, he could hardly not do as he said. So he untied the blasted things from his bag and started the awkward process of unlacing and stuffing his poor toes into the contraptions.

He accepted the offered reins from Thorin without moving a foot, and looked up at the ram trying to figure out how to get on with these ungainly things.

Fortunately, Thorin solved this problem for him by simply picking him up around the waist and depositing him in the saddle.

“Come, before we lose the light,” Thorin called to the small party before urging his mount into a trot.

Bilbo nudged his goat into movement and Dwalin and Bifur took up the rear.

They rode up towards the peak of the mountain, circling around to cross stone bridges and narrow cliffs that Bilbo thought too narrow for his own nimble feet. Thorin drove them forward towards a goal only he knew.

Finally, after another harrowing ledge, they came to a well hidden, but good sized ledge. There appeared to be greenery poking out of the snow in places, overgrown bushes, perhaps garden boxes, what may have been a fountain before. 

Thorin pulled his mount to a stop. He looked nearly giddy as a pebble as climbed out of the saddle and made his way to Bilbo. He helped him down same as he’d helped him up, and even took Bilbo’s hand. “This was just rediscovered on a patrol earlier this week. I had thought it had become ruin, as no one has tended to it for well over a century. It may not look much this time of year, but when spring comes, I thought you could clear it, rebuild it as you want. It would be yours.” Thorin tried pulling Bilbo along, only to be stopped in his tracks. “Is it too much? Only you have spoken often of your garden…”

“No, Thorin, I’m sure it’s lovely, but I can’t…” He attempted a step, but between his terrible boots and the solid foot of snow, Bilbo promptly tripped and fell face first into the snowdrift.

“Bilbo! Are you ill?” Thorin questioned as he pulled Bilbo up and into his arms.

“No, I just can’t move in these blasted boots!” he sputtered as he brushed snow from his face. “Either snow, or these contraptions, I can’t do both!”

“My apologies, Dwalin did mention you had quite a time first learning to walk in them, I had just supposed you had practiced since.”

“Dwalin said what? And he took my last spiced biscuits for that!”

Thorin chuckled. “And the last of my chocolate bread pudding to get him to talk. But there’s no reason we can’t continue our tour of your new garden. If you accept, of course.”

“Yes, of course I accept, you silly dwarf, though I truly cannot walk in these conditions.”  
“Who said you would need to walk?” Thorin asked. With Bilbo already in his arms, it wasn’t much effort to switch him round to his back, other than a little flailing from the startled Hobbit.

In this manner, Thorin was able to show Bilbo his new garden, telling him what little he could remember from when his grandmother last tended this area. 

They stayed in that snowy patch on the side of the mountain, Bilbo tucked up close and warm against Thorin’s back, Thorin recalling tales of mischief with his brother, and Bilbo decided that maybe these snowboots weren’t so bad after all.


	5. 14. Overgrown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of hair cutting, misunderstandings and maybe a proposal?  
Chapter specific tags: mid-quest, beorn's house, cultural misunderstanding, accidental proposal (maybe?)

14\. Overgrown

Bilbo blew at his bangs for the umpteenth time since agreeing to actually learn to use his little sword, and he could see Thorin growing impatient with him. Pardon him if he hadn’t thought of stopping by the barber before running after the company!

“You will be struck down if you are distracted so,” Thorin called across the small clearing they were using. Bilbo counted himself lucky that only Thorin was there to witness his flailing, the rest of the company enjoying what little rest this interlude at Beorn’s provided.

Bilbo sighed. “I know, I know, my hair just keeps getting in my eyes.” He lowered Sting and angrily brushed his overgrown bangs back only to have them fall near immediately into his eyes again.. “How about we break for now? It’s useless teaching if I can’t see. We can have a spot of afternoon tea and I’ll see if Beorn has some shears I can borrow, trim this back.”

A series of emotions played over Thorin’s face, settling on determined and he sheathed Orcrist. “You needn’t cut your hair, you have conducted yourself honorably. And the boys would be greatly troubled,” he added seeing his first line didn’t get the expected response, hoping the Hobbit’s fondness for his nephews would persuade him. “As for your vision, perhaps I could offer a solution. If I may?” Thorin’s hand hovered just inches from Bilbo’s face.

Bilbo nodded and Thorin gently separated out sections of his hair and started on a small braid.

While Thorin worked his bangs with surprisingly delicate motions, Bilbo felt his heart race and throat go dry. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him so...intimately. Logically, he knew this was a practical matter, but when Thorin finished off the braid with a bead from his own hair, all he had on hand certainly and nothing special, well, that little romantic part of his heart could pretend for a moment.

Thorin stepped back and looked at his handiwork. It was then that Bilbo noticed a bit of color high on his cheeks and a slight shine to his forehead. 

“Thank you for fixing my hair, but I think it best we head inside soon anyway, let Oin have a look at you.”

“Oin? But I am perfectly fine.”

“Color’s a bit off, and he said to come back at any hint of infection, his orders, not mine.” With that, Bilbo started off towards the front of the cabin, looking back at Thorin expectantly.

“Very well, though Oin will clear my health once again, and we will get some practice in you yet.

By the time they walked through the gaggle of dwarves laying about the front lawn and porch, Thorin had truly turned red, and the other dwarves must have noticed, the way they were shouting at him in their own language. 

Bilbo ushered him through the door to the sound of whistles and laughter, and honestly, how was that appropriate when their own king needed to see the healer! Dwarves!


	6. 25. Tasty

25\. Tasty  
“Oh, Thorin, please! Give me more! Ooh.” Bilbo’s whine abruptly turned into a satisfied moan as Thorin gave him what he wanted.

And how could he not? Bilbo made such a pretty picture for him, his cheeks flushed rosy, his eyes near closed in bliss as he suckled Thorin’s digit for every last drop as he pulled away.

“Thorin!” Bilbo collapsed back on the blanket in frustration. “Don’t be so cruel.”

“How am I being cruel when I’ve given you so much already?” Thorin chuckled and leaned down for a brief kiss. “And here I thought this was to be a treat for both of us. Don’t you want to draw it out?”

“No, just give it to me already!”

“Greedy Hobbit,” Thorin growled with fondness. Still, he indulged his husband, plucking another of the exotic ‘chocolates’ from the box and dangling it above Bilbo’s mouth.

Bilbo sat up just enough to draw Thorin’s fingers into his mouth, taking the treat and then delicately licking his fingers for any trace that may have melted there. His moan bordered on obscene as the flavor melted over his tongue again.

Thorin rustled through their picnic basket with a frown. “Hm, looks like that was the last one. Do you suppose I might yet have a taste?” he asked, laying down beside his happy hobbit and Bilbo obliged him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate is a pretty exotic food, so I'm guessing it's not common in Middle Earth and quite a treat.


End file.
